


An Unfamiliar Journey

by SpicyReyes



Series: The Great Life Swapping Adventure Of Bilbo Baggins [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I'm writing two quest for erebor fics at one time stop me, M/M, Universe Collison, companion work to other fic in series, part of a series, the Quest for Erebor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:55:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo lived in a world where Erebor prospered and he was the happy husband to the King Under the Mountain, until he awakes in Bag End at 50 and has some wizard tell him they're going on an adventure.</p><p>This is an awfully long dream, Bilbo thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Prince Consort" is the proper title for the male spouse of a regent who lacks right to claim kingship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a lil short - its just to kick things off
> 
> it's late as heckie here

Bilbo strode through Erebor's halls, fury radiating off him in waves. Dwarves, from soldiers to guards to servants, stepped aside to let him pass, knowing the Prince Consort far too well to get in the way of a rampage. Very few things made King Thorin's beloved spouse so much as miffed, let alone as livid as he appeared now. Upon seeing him pass, they saw the cause: he was covered, completely across the back, in paint. Bright, garish colors smeared together across his regal attire, marring the symbols and hiding the intricate designs. 

It was a shame, really. The coat had been beautiful. 

Bilbo was on a warpath for that particular reason, headed straight for the rooms of the princes, Fili and Kili. 

He pushed open their door without a knock, scowling at them. “Did you not think?”

The two cowered immediately. 

“I was in a meeting with your uncle when your trick went off,” he said, and the twins winced. “Precisely. Do you know how hard it is to talk about trade-...” His angry expression melted into a wry grin. “When you are trying so hard not to laugh?”

The twins smiled wide, and the three had a good laugh, conversing over the clever mechanics of their paint-throwing rig. 

Thorin could yell at them later. For now, Bilbo wanted a copy of the blueprints. 

 

“You shouldn't encourage this behavior,” Thorin attempted to scold his husband, though the effort was made quite pointless by the kiss that followed it.

“They'll be fine,” Bilbo said. “Have you noticed how innovative they are? One day they're going to do something brilliant just to ruin your day. Then what will you do?”

“Likely, have a terrible day.” 

Bilbo laughed, the sound being swept away by another kiss. 

 

Bilbo met Thorin during a shopping trip to Bree when he was 48. 

The tall, rude dwarf had absolutely ruined Bilbo's trip, but more than made up for it a week later, turning up at the shire with a cart full of flowers to replace the ones he'd accidentally crushed when he tripped over the hobbit in the market.

It turned out that Thorin had been passing through on his way to the Blue Mountains for a meeting with the dwarven council there, and he came by on his way back to Erebor as well and told him of how dreadfully dull his relatives could be. 

It was seeing the dwarf with an utterly indignant expression as Bilbo described his own prickly cousins that Bilbo Baggins fell in love. 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

Now 80, the hobbit had gotten quite used to waking up with his head tucked into Thorin's neck while someone beat down the door trying to get the two up for their morning obligations. 

Therefore, it was no small surprise when he awoke in a significantly smaller and less comfortable bed than the one he had fallen asleep on, utterly alone. 

Standing, he inspected his surroundings. Was this...?

It was, in fact, Bag End, his home from fourty years prior. How'd he get back here? Was this a dream?

It must have been, he decided, and proceeded to head out onto his front porch, plopping down on the bench for a smoke in his dressing gown without a care.

It was like this that Gandalf the Grey found him, causing the poor wizard to wonder if the hobbit he'd been searching for had gone mad at some point since he'd last seen him. 

And in this awkward and uncomfortable manner, we begin our adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins has the strangest of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a Thorin RP blog! Find it at http://oakenshieldofdurin.tumblr.com/

Bilbo choked as the billow of smoke he had puffed out came right back blowing into his face, and opened his eyes to see what had sent it back. He was greeted by the sight of a tall Man, with a long grey beard, a funny hat, and grey robes. 

“Why, good morning,” he greeted. This was an odd dream, he thought, that confronted him with such a stranger. 

“What do you mean?” the strange Man returned. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning? Or that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?” 

Bilbo pondered this question for a moment. It was strange, yes, but that was the way of dreams. “All of them at once, I suppose.” 

The Man looked somewhat disappointed by Bilbo’s response. He glanced down, and then gave a small shout of shock. “Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo startled. “What?”

“No one informed me you  _ married.”  _

Bilbo followed the Man’s gaze, where indeed, his wedding band sat. “Oh, yes, my husband. Lovely, he is.” He looked up, curiosity on his face. “But, why would you be informed…? Do we know each other?” 

The Man harrumphed. “You know my name, though you do not remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf! And Gandalf means...me.” 

What an odd fellow this was! But wait… “Gandalf! I remember your name from my Shire days. You made fireworks for Midsummer’s Eve every year when I was young.” Bilbo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What on Earth are you doing in my dream?”

“Dream?” Gandalf looked concerned. “This is no dream, my boy. And what do you mean, speaking of life in the Shire as though it has passed you by?” 

“Well,” Bilbo said. “If this is not a dream, than something very odd indeed is happening.” He took another puff of his pipe. “You see, I am much older than this body. I am of 80 years, and happily married to a dwarf of a similarly advanced age. We live together in Erebor.” 

“Erebor!” Gandalf cried. “How did you come to know of such a place?”

“I just told you,” Bilbo returned. “I live there, with Thorin.”

“Thorin!” the wizard shouted. “Are you telling me that you are married to a king?”

“Indeed,” Bilbo said. “It is his ring I wear.” 

“My dear boy,” Gandalf said. “I do believe we have much to discuss.”

  
  
  


An hour passed and, sipping their tea and chatting quietly, Bilbo caught Gandalf up on his life. On his husband, on his nephews, on his friends and advisors, on his duties. They had gotten right up to now, as Bilbo recounted waking up that morning in a younger body in his old home.

“My boy,” Gandalf said. “This is no dream. The Valar are at work here.”

“The Valar!” Bilbo cried. “You are saying Eru would take me from my husband and send me here? But why?”   
“That remains to be seen,” Gandalf said. “But perhaps...my reason for coming, is the same as yours.” 

“And what is that?”

Gandalf smiled. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

  
  
  


Another half hour passed, this time with talk of the myths of Erebor, of the history the mountain held. Gandalf started at the madness of Thorin’s grandfather, and explained the day the dragon came - everything from the Elven betrayal to the devastation of Dale. He led up to talk about Thorin’s life leading his people to the Blue Mountains, and how he now worked as a humble blacksmith for whatever money could be thrown his way. And oh, how Bilbo’s heart hurt at this news. 

“My poor husband,” Bilbo moaned. “He has too kind a heart for such things.”

Gandalf shook his head. “You will find, in this life, he is much colder. For the world has not been kind to him.”  

Bilbo supposed he’d have to see that to believe it. 

  
  
  


“Well, dear Bilbo,” Gandalf said at last, when the stories were all told and the teapot was long empty. “Can I count on you to join us on this quest?”

Bilbo nodded fiercely. “If what you say is true, and this is no dream, the Valar wanted me on this. They want me to help Thorin.” He shrugged. “If not, it is only a dream, and I have nothing to fear.”

Gandalf smiled widely. “That is the spirit. I shall inform the others.”

Bilbo saw Gandalf out, and then steeled himself for a trip to the market. 

He needed to prepare a feast. 

  
  
  


The next evening, Bilbo had a spread laid out fit for a king - which is exactly the standard he’d been aiming for. Traditional dwarven meals were spread out, along with hobbit-y dishes and treats. There were even a few dishes Bilbo himself had invented, including a ham dish that he knew to be Thorin’s favorite in his life in Erebor. He wondered if this Thorin would like it, too. 

He and Gandalf had decided that it was best that he kept his dual-lives a secret, for fear of stirring distrust among the Company. As such, they’d made up a fictional husband, and decided that he would be deceased, as to make the lie run smoother. They named him Thornur, which was close enough to Thorin that Bilbo didn’t feel so silly. 

There was a knock on the door that pulled Bilbo from his thoughts, and he went to answer it. 

Showtime. 


	3. Chapter 3

The first knock on the door sounded, and Bilbo hopped up from the table with a slight shout, surprised by the sudden noise. He had been immersed in his own thoughts of how this adventure would go.  _ Would it go well? _ he wondered.  _ Will I really be able to steal from a dragon?  _

Well, Bilbo supposed, it could still be a dream. 

He thought this again when he opened the door to see a familiar face staring back at him: Thorin’s best friend and personal guard, Dwalin. 

“Dwalin, at your service,” the guard said with a shallow bow. 

Bilbo paused for a moment in shock, before returning the greeting. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family’s.” 

With that, Dwalin stepped inside, as though waiting for an invitation was beyond him. _ Typical Dwalin _ , Bilbo thought, remembering how distrustful the Dwarf had been to him at first. “Is it down here?”

“Is what down where?” Bilbo asked, confused. 

“Supper!” Dwalin called back, tossing Bilbo his coat, which Bilbo caught easily, used to living with Dwarves. “He said there’d be food, and lots of it!”

“Oh, yes. Indeed. This way,” he said, leading Dwalin to the dining room. 

Dwalin’s mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of the dining room, completely covered in different types of fanciful foods. He recognized some, seeing them as Dwarven traditional meals, but others were new to him.

“Where did you learn to cook Dwarven meals?” Dwalin asked. 

Bilbo reached for his left hand, toying with his ring. “My late husband, Thornur,” he lied. 

“Oh,” Dwalin muttered. “I am sorry for your loss.” 

Bilbo smiled kindly. “Thank you. Now, feel free to start eating. I’ll go wait by the door for the others.” 

Dwalin nodded and picked a chair (Bilbo’s personal favorite, at the head of the table), and set to devouring a small meat pie. 

Bilbo waited a moment to make sure he was settled, before returning to the door. Gandalf had not told him how many would be coming, exactly, but had called them a company of “a rather unlucky number,” so Bilbo had, quite rightly, guessed thirteen. 

It was only a moment before the door was knocked on again, and Bilbo opened it to reveal Dwalin’s older brother and Thorin’s advisor, Balin.

“Balin, at your service,” Balin greeted, sweeping into a lower bow than his brother had and greeting Bilbo with a wide smile. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family’s,” Bilbo repeated. Then, deciding to avoid having another cloak tossed at him, he asked, “May I take your gear?” 

Balin blinked, before his smile widened and he undid his cloak, handing it - and a few weapons - to Bilbo. “Thank you, laddie. Have the others arrived?” 

“Only Dwalin,” Bilbo informed him. “He is in the dining room. I will show you.”

And so he did, setting aside Balin’s things and leading him to where his brother sat, munching on a scone. 

The two greeted each other, slamming their foreheads together with force, and teasing each other about their weight. 

Balin looked similarly amazed at the food, and turned to Bilbo. “Thank you, for this. It has been ages since we’ve had a proper feast. I’m sure the others will appreciate it.” He tipped his head. “Though, I must ask- where did you learn Dwarven recipes?” 

“He was married to a Dwarf,” Dwalin said. 

“Ah. I’m sorry,” Balin said. “The pain of a lost love never truly leaves you.”

“Indeed,” Bilbo agreed, thinking of his father’s grieving after his mother died, rather than of any loss of his own. He did not concern himself with how Balin knew his “husband” must be “dead” - Dwarves did not divorce, so if their marriage was in the past, death was the only logical conclusion. 

Balin smiled kindly at him before sitting, turning his attention to the food. He pointed at a hobbit dish, asking, “What is this?” 

“Corn soup,” Bilbo informed him, grateful for the change of subject. 

“Corn soup?” Balin questioned. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Tis a hobbit tradition,” Bilbo explained. “Try it with the fry bread,” he suggested, pointing out another dish. 

Balin made to follow Bilbo’s suggestions just as another knock rang out. “Ah, I’ll go get that,” Bilbo said, leaving the brothers to dine. 

He threw open the door, blinking in shock at what he saw: Thorin’s young nephews, Fili and Kili.

The boys introduced themselves with a low bow, speaking the “at your service” in unison. “You must be Mister Boggins!” Kili exclaimed with joy. 

“Baggins,” Bilbo corrected. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family’s. Say, aren’t you a bit young for such a dangerous journey?” 

The two suddenly looked gloomy. “No,” Fili insisted. “We’re past age of majority.” 

Bilbo shook his head. “Just barely, by the looks of you. Honestly, who’s choice was this?” He frowned up at them. “What do your parents think?” 

Fili’s face darkened. “My mother was...concerned.” 

“Thank Yavanna,” Bilbo breathed. “Here I thought they showed no concern. The stubbornness of Dwarves. Why, I’ll have to have words with Thorin about this.”

Kili suddenly looked pleading. “Please don’t, Mister Baggins. Uncle doubts us enough as it is.”

Bilbo frowned. “And I suppose you want to prove yourself?” 

The boys nodded fiercely. 

“Come on in, then,” he said. “Hang up your cloaks, that’s it. Disarm too, if you would - just set them there, that’ll do.” He ushered them in, leading them to the dining room. “Dwalin and Balin are here already, eating, so just make yourselves at home.” 

He heard them gasping and muttering small “oh”s of appreciation as they caught sight of the food, and shook his head with an exasperated smile. Trust Thorin to allow children on a dangerous quest - he never could resist his nephews. 

Speaking of Thorin, where was he? He wouldn’t take terribly long, would he? 

Another knock sounded, and Bilbo grinned, hoping that it would be his husband. Instead, however, he was greeted by a volley of Dwarves falling in, one on top of the other, crashing to his floor. 

“Um, hello,” he greeted. “Do you need some help up?”

“Yes please,” one groaned from the bottom, a dark haired Dwarf in a funny hat. 

This group introduced themselves one by one, as Bofur (the Dwarf in the funny hat), Bifur (who was introduced by his cousin Bofur), Bombur (who Bilbo recognized as a royal kitchen employee),  Óin  (the royal healer),  Glóin (Óin’s brother) , Nori (the royal spymaster), Dori (a dressmaker who made many of Bilbo’s clothes), and Ori (the royal scribe’s apprentice). Seeing so many familiar faces was odd, especially since they were all a lot younger than Bilbo was used to. 

He showed them all to the dining room, and just that fast, the feast began. All the Dwarves took their seats, greeting each other happily, until one of them - Bombur - noticed the Dwarven food. 

“How do you know -...?”

“He was married to a Dwarf,” Dwalin interrupted. 

The table got quiet. “Sorry for you loss, laddie,”  Glóin said, and the others nodded along. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, toying with his ring. He felt bad lying to them all, but he didn’t have much choice. 

He was saved by another rap on the door. This time, when he answered it, he was not greeted by a Dwarf, but with a wizard.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo greeted. “Hello again.” 

“Hello, my dear fellow,” Gandalf returned. “It does seem you have a full house.”

“All but one is here, yes?” Bilbo said, leading Gandalf inside. The wizard did a quick headcount, and nodded. 

“Yes, all but Thorin are present.” 

Then, a loud, solid knock -  _ one, two, three -  _ sounded at the door, and the smial went silent. 

“He’s here.”


End file.
